


Nocturne

by frecklesarechocolate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Classical Music, First Kiss, M/M, Musicians, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When their regular violinist gets food poisoning, Sam has a suggestion for a replacement. Cas isn't so sure it's a great idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nocturne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WinJennster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinJennster/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Jen, and I'm sorry this is late! I hope you enjoy this.

"It's definitely food poisoning. He can't play tonight, Cas. Sorry," Sam says on the other end of the line. Cas groans, because they've got a concert tonight, and this is the kind of thing where you can't just up and cancel. It took them months to schedule the concert, and he doesn't want to lose this opportunity. It's Carnegie Hall, for crying out loud. You don't call in sick to Carnegie Hall.

Cas says as much to Sam, who snorts. "Yeah, Cas, I know. I have a suggestion though."

"Yeah?" Cas asks warily, because he kind of has an idea of what the suggestion is, and he knows he is not going to like it. Sam knows he's not going to like it too, judging from the hesitation in his tone.  But Sam forges ahead anyway.

"Dean's available." There's a pause, and then Sam rushes in to justify his offer. "Look, I know you don't like him. I know he has a reputation, but he's available, he's good, and right now he's our only option. You know this."

Cas sighs. Because Sam is right. Dean Winchester irritates the shit out of Cas. He really does. As classical violinists go, Dean is the epitome of diva, he's got an over inflated sense of his own abilities, and he can be difficult to work with. That's an understatement. He is difficult to work with. On reflection, though, their regular violinist – the one who's projectile vomiting right now – isn't much better. In fact, in a lot of ways, Lucifer is much worse. The only advantage he has is that he's Cas's brother, and is one of the founding members of the _Quartet Paradiso_ , a string quartet comprised of Lucifer and Sam on violins, Gabriel on viola and Cas on cello. Or, at least, it was, until Lucifer went and ate some bad... whatever it was that he ate.  

"Cas?" Sam asks, and Cas realizes he's been off on some tangent in his mind, and Sam's been waiting for his response.

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ok, fine. Ask him. Tell him to come to rehearsal, and we'll go from there."

"Great!!" Sam says, and Cas can hear the unbridled glee in Sam's voice. They've actually been talking about replacing Lucifer on and off for the last couple of weeks. Gabriel's been fairly quiet on the subject, other than to mutter at some point that Lucifer is a great bag of dicks (he is), but that he's not going to get involved in some kind of family feud.

This may not be the best opportunity to rectify the Lucifer problem, but at least it still gives them the chance to play Carnegie Hall, and then they can go from there.

* * *

 

Rehearsal goes better than Cas expected. Dean was late, but once they got down to playing through the music, Dean listened carefully to the rest of them, made notations on his own music, and didn't try to change anything. He must have caught Cas staring at him at one point, because he quirked up an eyebrow.

"What?"

Cas shakes his head. "Nothing. I just thought..."

"What, that I'd try to change something? Nah. Concert's tonight. I'm just helping Sammy out, and I know how hard you've been working on this."

Sam protests at being called Sammy, "I'm not 11 years old, Dean," but Cas is concentrating on the fact that Dean's actions are not at all what he was anticipating. Dean's reputation as a prima donna player may have been over exaggerated. Or maybe he's just doing a favor for his brother. Cas knows how much Sam loves Dean, and that kind of devotion doesn't come out of nowhere.

After they've finished rehearsing and once they’ve discussed the run of the program, Cas watches Dean pack up his violin. Dean handles the instrument lovingly, making sure it's cleaned of dust and rosin before placing it carefully in his case. He snaps it shut with a flourish and slings it over one shoulder with one of the straps. He and Sam walk out together, leaving Cas and Gabriel alone in the rehearsal room.

"He does have a nice ass," Gabriel remarks.

"What?" Cas asks, startled.

"Well, you've been staring at it since Dean stood up, so I thought I'd let you know that you're not fooling anyone." Gabriel winks at Cas, and slings his own instrument over his shoulder. "Pack up your instrument, bro, we've got a concert to play tonight."

Cas looks down at his cello, still out of its case and shakes his head. He was not staring at Dean's butt. Not at all.

* * *

 

It doesn't help matters that Dean looks amazing in a tuxedo. Cas knows he's no slouch himself, but Dean wears the thing like it was molded to his body. On further reflection, it occurs to Cas that Dean is mostly a soloist; the tux probably was tailored specifically for him. Cas looks down at his own tux, which, while not a rental, was purchased off the rack. It fits well enough, gives him range of motion in the shoulders, but in no way does it fit the way Dean's does. It looks as if Dean was poured into the thing.

Cas scrubs his face. He's got a concert to play, and he can't be thinking about the lines of muscle and smooth skin beneath the tuxedo of his substitute first violinist. He needs to be thinking about Beethoven, and that awful part in the last movement, and about the violin-cello duet in the Borodin. He needs to focus on his intonation in the Mozart, and he needs to not be thinking about Dean's hands.

Fuck.

Those hands are beautiful. The way they grace the neck of the violin, the smooth way he moves from one hand position to the next and pulls beautiful, sweet sounds from his instrument.

Cas is so screwed.

Gabriel bumps against his shoulder. "You okay, bro?"

Cas swallows. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

Gabriel looks at him like he doesn't believe him, but wordlessly goes back to tuning his viola. Sam and Dean are in the corner, laughing about something or other, and Cas does his best to ignore them.

The concert passes in a blur, but Cas knows that once they start playing that he's fine, at least for the time being. He can focus on the music, he can focus on what he's supposed to do and who he's supposed to follow or cue, and he can ignore the fact that the person behind the violin across from him is about six feet of pure delicious.

Right.

The [third movement](http://youtu.be/CTPrcBAq28Q) of the Borodin is probably one of the most romantic pieces of music ever written: people have fallen in love over it. It is essentially the first violin and cello wooing each other musically. Cas normally does not regret programming decisions, ever, but he’s beginning to think maybe he should have chosen something else, because it requires an awful lot of watching Dean over the top of his music, keeping an eye on the first violinist as he plays, and Dean has to watch him as well. His green eyes grow darker as they play, something that Cas dismisses as a trick of the light, and he tries to ignore how as they play each note together, Cas’s mouth gets drier, and there’s a pool of warmth settling in his belly.

By the time they finish, to a standing ovation, no less, Cas is more than grateful that he can stand with his cello in front of him and no one will think anything of it. They play a quick encore, Dean winking as he starts them off on an [allegro](http://youtu.be/rMjGjavbXfI) at some ridiculously fast tempo. The crowd is wowed, of course, and they step offstage breathless and exhausted, but also exhilarated.

Gabriel and Sam seem to have gotten some kind of memo that Cas was not privy to, as they disappear almost as soon as their instruments are packed, leaving Cas and Dean alone in the green room together. Dean’s untied his bowtie, and it hangs around his neck, the top button of his shirt undone. There’s a sheen of perspiration on his forehead – it’s hot under the stage lights – and his face is flushed. Cas presses a palm to his own cheek, and it’s quite warm – he’s sure his own face is reddened as well.

He finishes closing the case, making sure all the snaps are locked. When he turns around, Dean is right there, right up in his personal space. He’s removed his jacket now, and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, exposing muscled forearms.

“Uh, hi?” Cas says, and he could kick himself, because that... that was not smooth.

Dean grins. “So, are we gonna talk about it, or just do something about it?” He’s close, very close, but not quite touching, and Cas steels himself, holds himself back. He tightens his fingers into fists and lets his nails dig into his palms. He can be disciplined. He can keep his hands off of Dean, no matter how sexy he looks, slightly rumpled and hot.

“Talk about what?” Cas says.

Dean laughs. “Well, not about the concert, which was, might I add, amazing.” He pauses for a second, and then says, “Actually, wait, let’s talk about that for a second. Because we were good together. All of us.” He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you think?”

Cas nods, because while Dean hasn’t moved out of his personal space, this at least is something he can focus on. “Yes, we were. But we have a violinist, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Dean scoffs. “You have Lucifer, who is an asshole of the highest rank, and who does whatever the hell he wants when you play together and never comes to rehearsal.” Seeing the expression on Cas’s face, he anticipates the next question. “Sam complains about it. A lot.”

“Oh.” Cas contemplates this for a second, but then his train of thought is derailed by the fact that Dean is running his fingers up Cas’s arm. “Uh...”

Dean leans in, and before Cas can protest, presses his lips to Cas’s, kissing him lightly. Cas’s focus is narrowed down to two spots of sensation: Dean’s fingers on his arm and his mouth.

And what a mouth it is. Dean’s lips are soft, warm and oh, there’s the flick of tongue against Cas’s bottom lip. He lets his eyelids flutter shut and one of his hands rests on Dean’s hip, pulling him closer. He’s disappointed when Dean pulls away and rests their foreheads together.

“Cas,” Dean says softly. “If we’re going to do this, I want...” He hesitates, and Cas takes the opportunity to nip at Dean’s lower lip a little, that plush lip that’s been taunting him from over his music stand all night.

“What, Dean?” Cas asks. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want this to be just some fuck in the green room,” Dean says eventually. He’s closed his eyes, as if he doesn’t want Cas to see him like this – vulnerable.

Cas thinks about this for a while, probably too long for Dean’s liking, but he’s still got his hand on Dean’s hip, and his thumb, developing a mind of its own, is rubbing in small circles, tracing the muscle and bone beneath Dean’s trousers. They’re also still leaning forehead-to-forehead, quietly inhaling each other’s breath.

“Dean,” Cas says finally, and the word is so quiet that if they weren’t as close as they were, Dean wouldn’t have heard it. “It doesn’t have to be.”

And that seems to be what Dean wants to hear, because the tension bleeds from his body and he presses even closer to Cas so they’re standing flush together from shoulders to knees. Dean cups Cas’s face in his hands and kisses him again, and it’s wet and sloppy and just glorious, and Cas wishes it would never end. He’s leaning against a table, and Dean hitches Cas up on it, so their crotches are grinding together, and Cas’s breath catches in his throat at the sensation. Dean shoves Cas’s tuxedo jacket off his shoulders and makes a small growl of frustration when he realizes that Cas is going to have to move his hands to get the jacket fully off.

They pull apart at the same time, both grinning at each other. Dean reaches for Cas and first unties the bowtie, and then begins unbuttoning his shirt slowly. Cas pulls his jacket off and runs his hands up Dean’s chest, feeling the solid, muscular warmth beneath. They undress each other quickly, tossing aside shirts and undershirts, pulling at belts and yanking at pants as if they’re afraid that the moment will be broken if they don’t hurry, but when they’re standing together naked, cocks hard and bobbing against each other, they slow down again, taking the chance to acquaint themselves with each other’s bodies.

Hands on skin, roaming up and down, lightly tickling and pressing hard by turns, while Dean mouths at Cas’s jaw and Cas throws his head back to give Dean more access. Cas moves his hips slowly, allowing the friction and pressure to build slowly. Cas maps out Dean’s torso, starting from the back and working his way front, noting the sounds Dean makes, saving them for later exploration.

It’s when Dean closes his hand around their cocks and begins to move it up and down slowly that Cas realizes that he is thinking about a later, about another time, that this is something he wants to happen again. His hand joins Dean’s and they move their hands together, up and down, with a twist at the top, Dean’s face buried in the crook of Cas’s neck. Cas’s ability to speak is reduced to only being able to create soft moaning noises as he moves closer and closer to orgasm. He yanks on Dean’s hair, just a bit too hard, which causes Dean’s hips to stutter slightly, but he raises his head. Cas crashes their lips together, swirling his tongue against Dean’s, tasting the coffee Dean drank before the concert and something underneath, something smoky and promising that Cas wants to think about later... so many things to focus on later... and that’s when Dean increases the pace of his hand. It’s fast and furious now, and Cas can’t concentrate on anything but the sensations.

His orgasm is a punch to his gut, all the air blown from his lungs, and he shudders into it, feeling the warm, stickiness of his come on their hands. Dean follows shortly after with a hoarse groan, and their hands continue to move up and down slowly, milking each other for another minute or two.

They stay like that, breathing heavily, the scent of sex thick in the air, until they’re startled by a knock on the door.

“Uh, sir? We need to clean out the green room, please,” a soft voice from the other side says.

Cas groans and buries his face in Dean’s neck, unwilling to move just yet - possibly unable to move at this point. Dean chuckles softly and grabs his undershirt, gently cleaning first Cas, and then himself. He places a kiss against the corner of Cas’s mouth and hands Cas his pants.

“Come on, let’s go to your hotel and discuss how you’re gonna fire Lucifer.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “ _That’s_ what we’re going to do?” He pulls on his pants and shirt.

Dean shrugs lightly. “Maybe we’ll get to that.” He and Cas finish dressing in silence, and then pick up their instruments. Dean unlocks the door, and Cas wonders when Dean found time to do that, but then decides he doesn’t particularly care, he’s just glad the door was locked. He threads his fingers with Dean’s, and they head out of the Hall onto the busy New York City street.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my amazing beta, [clotpoleofthelord](http://clotpoleofthelord.tumblr.com) for her help!


End file.
